


Burden

by Fayne



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Am i projecting? maybe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Eating Disorders, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Not Beta Read, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, i don't know how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:55:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29720325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fayne/pseuds/Fayne
Summary: He never seemed to be enough, he knew that and now all he was doing was delaying the inevitable.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57





	Burden

**Author's Note:**

> tw: self-harm and eating disorders, vague mentions of anorexia and bulimia
> 
> yes this is very much projecting :")

He never seemed to be enough. He wasn’t the most attractive looking person, his pink hair standing out, highlighting him as the anomaly. That one freak with hideously colored hair. His red eyes were dull, devoid of life and seemed sunken in due to the lack of sleep he got. The voices kept him up enough for him to dread even looking anywhere near a mirror. The way his lanky body seemed too thin yet too big for him, the size never quite fitting him right despite his desperate efforts to make himself look decent. His anxiety flared up the moment anyone spoke to him, the voices waging war against themselves over what his response should be. Half the time the person would take it the wrong way and leave, turning a cold shoulder to him as they angrily grumbled about his apparent arrogance. And all Techno could do was watch as he destroyed whatever potential friendships he could have had. All with a single touch of a finger. A single word uttered from his mouth. And they disappear, crumbling under the weight of his finger, his words, slipping through the cracks of his soul, never to be seen again. 

Sometimes, he envied how easily Wilbur could string sentences together, envied his ability to socialise with others without fucking up mid-sentence and instantly wanting to disintegrate and never be seen again. Sometimes, he wished he could be as brazen as Tommy, able to speak his mind and retaliate when people make fun of him or push him around. Techno wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to work up that kind of courage.

_ Weak _

Yeah, he knew.

-

It wasn’t unusual for Techno to be holed up in his room, never as sociable as Wilbur and Tommy but he refuses to spend too much time with his family. Refuses to burden them with his presence. He worries that if he spends too much time around them, he'll slip. That they might catch a glance at the angry red lines cut in a precise manner across his arm, trailing from his wrist to his elbow. Or that they might notice that his shirt is hanging over his frame, how it would have fit him perfectly a few months ago. He couldn't risk them realising that he never ate over 200 calories, that he would purge in the bathroom if he had and add to the collection of cuts on his thighs as punishment.

_ You're such a burden _

He knew.

-

Techno sighed, rubbing his eyes as he tried to focus on the words on his computer screen. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fully ignore the growing pangs in his stomach. Turning on his phone, he unlocked his notes and frowned.

**1 apple- 78**

**1 egg- 155**

**Total: 233**

Over 200.

_ You failed. _

His stomach churned at the sight of the numbers displayed, he couldn’t focus on anything else other than the numbers displayed on his phone screen, glaring at him. His mind repeated the numbers in his head again and again, and suddenly he found himself in front of the toilet, three fingers shoved to the back of his throat as he gagged. The bile slipped past his lips, the acid burning his skin but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

After he was finished, he sunk onto the floor, pulling out his penknife. Techno paused. He could faintly hear Tommy downstairs with Wilbur, the younger shouting at Wilbur over the game of Uno they were playing. He could hear Phil laughing at his children's antics as he cooked dinner in the kitchen and feigning ignorance when Wilbur turned to Phil for help. Sometimes, Techno wondered why he couldn’t be normal like them, to be able to enjoy the time he spends with his family instead of constantly being consumed by thoughts of cutting, of the number of calories he has in his body and how fat he looks. They are the only things he ever thinks about and it drains him so fast, to the point where just getting up in the morning feels like a chore, to the point where talking to Tommy makes him want to leave and go back to his room, the shouting too loud. He could never find the energy to reply to them, so he settled for soft hums of acknowledgement instead of words.

_ They deserve better than that, they shouldn’t have to waste their time and energy on you. If you just die, they won’t feel burdened anymore. _

Maybe.

Sliding the blade out, Techno rolled up his sleeves and stared. Small white lines littered his skin, and he knew he had many more on his thighs. Since the first time he cut, he’d been consistently cutting almost every single night. At first, it was just as punishment for overeating, but watching the blood drip down his thighs and arms was so mesmerising. He could no longer go more than four days without cutting. Pulling the blade up, he shakily began. Slice after slice, the blade digging deep into his skin. Just as he was about to stop for the night, a light knock on the door startled him. He jumped and winced as he felt his grip on the penknife tighten and slice deeper than he intended. 

“Techno? Are you ok? You’ve been in there for a while. Tommy wants to know when you’re gonna join us for that game of Uno you promised him.” Wilbur’s voice called out, the older sounding concerned but Techno was in a slight panic. The blade had cut way deeper than he thought it had, and he didn’t have his supplies with him, meaning he had to travel back to his room while avoiding his family who wanted him to play a game. Fuck.

“Uh yeah, I’m fine Wil. I’ll be down in ten minutes.” Techno called out, inwardly cursing as his voice cracked from disuse and his throat still raw.

“You sure? You don’t sound very well, do you want me to get you some medicine?” 

“No it’s fine, thanks Wil.” Techno waited till he heard Wilbur’s sock-padded feet walk away from the door before he poked his head out the door to survey the area. Determining that there was no one there, he headed to his room and instantly started to rummage through his box of bandages. He didn’t want the cuts to get infected, it would result in him having to answer questions that he’d rather avoid. As he observed his handiwork, he deemed it good enough and headed down to his family.

-

“Techno! My man! Are you ready to get your ass handed to you in Uno?” Tommy grinned, eyes filled with mischief and Techno gave him a small smile. 

“As if you could beat me, child.” He teased and Tommy laughed, giving him a slight shove. His legs seemed to think that was a great time to have the worst balance possible and he stumbled, catching himself by pressing his left arm against the wall. Instantly, he felt the pain of the cuts being aggravated and he let out a quiet hiss, trying to steady himself as he did his best to ignore the pain.

“Whoa, Techno? Are you ok big man?” Tommy’s voice dropped, filled with concern and a hint of guilt as he moved to help Techno. Techno wanted to reassure him that he was fine, that it was his fault for not being able to catch himself, but his mind was too slow due to malnutrition so all he did was hold a hand up to stop Tommy as he steadied himself. 

Clearing his throat, Techno replied “I’m fine Tommy, don’t worry. I just have a slight headache, nothing to worry about.”

Tommy bit his lower lip as he took in the sight of his brother and Techno had to suppress a shiver as his younger brother’s eyes scanned over his body.

_ Maybe he’s now realising how disgusting you look, how you have too much fat around your waist. He’ll probably tell the others and then they’ll leave you, like trash they’ll throw you out onto the street so you’ll stop stealing their food. _

Forcing himself to ignore the voice, he walked over to Tommy and put his arm on his brother’s shoulder. Faking a smile, he avoided eye contact as he said “I promise Tommy, I’m completely fine. How about we play that game of Uno now?”

“Boys! It’s time for dinner!” Phil called out and Tommy cracked a smile.

“Yoooo Philza Minecraft! Save some for me!” He raced into the room and Techno followed slowly behind. 

Entering the kitchen Techno noticed Wilbur had been with Phil, helping to set the table. Taking a seat, Techno grimaced at the food that had been piled onto his plate. He used to love Phil’s cooking, and he still did. But having carbonara for dinner tonight made his stomach curl in on itself in protest. The amount of carbs and fats and oil, he didn’t think he’d be physically able to take a bit of his meal. 

The others took a seat and soon the household began eating. Techno couldn’t take his eyes off the pasta in front of him, his mind constantly running the number of calories he’d be consuming and adjusting based on how many mouthfuls he takes and factoring in purging later in the evening. He was so absorbed in his mind that he didn’t notice Wilbur frowning at him, brows furrowed as he slowly leaned towards Phil and whispered something into his ear. He didn’t notice Phil pulling out his phone and typing something to someone. He didn’t notice how Tommy inconspicuously checked his phone under the table and also began to frown as he typed his response back to the sender. Phil and Wilbur’s phones beeped. 

“Hey Techno, you feeling ok mate? You haven’t touched your food.” Phil prodded gently and Techno snapped his head up, startled out of his thoughts before glancing back down at his meal. 

“Y-Yeah I’m ok Phil, just don’t feel very hungry tonight.” He lied, clenching his fists under the table as he felt all three of their stares on him.

_ They’re close to finding out, they’re close to throwing you out. You’ve messed up this time. _

“Techno, you have to eat some of it. Come on, at least half ok?”

Half? He couldn’t even eat one mouthful, how was he supposed to eat half? Slowly, he gave a small nod and began to stuff the food into his mouth. Immediately, he felt bloated, his body protesting against the food he was trying to eat. He forced himself to swallow and instantly threw up, his body rejecting the first bit of food he’d had in two days. 

He knew he’d mostly throw up acid, having just purged not too long ago so he wasn’t surprised when he felt the familiar burn creep up his throat. As he heaved, he felt a hand gently place itself on his back, rubbing soothing circles and a low voice speaking over the sound of him throwing up. He could vaguely hear the rummaging in the background and a glass of water was placed beside him. As his breathing calmed and the bile stopped slewing out of his mouth, he grasped the glass in his shaky hands and took small sips, careful not to aggravate his throat. He glanced down at his now ruined shirt and hesitantly looked up at his family. Phil had a comforting smile on his face, but Techno could see the concern etched into his face. Wilbur stood beside Techno, rubbing his hand on his back.

“M’sorry about that” he murmured, hunched over and lowering his gaze.

“It’s ok Techno, if you weren’t feeling well you should have told me, I would’ve made something easier for you to eat.” Phil soothed, patting Techno on the head.

Tommy hopped down the stairs, hands grasping one of the many long sleeve shirts Techno owned. “I got you another shirt big man, come on, you can change now.”

Techno was delirious from the lack of nutrition, purging twice in the span of two hours and blood loss, so he started to remove his shirt. The sudden gasp from Tommy made Techno jolt, as if a bolt of electricity had hit him. Instantly realising what he was doing, he frantically pulled down his shirt but it was too late.

They saw. They saw. They saw. They saw they saw theysawtheysaw-

“T-Techno? W-Why’re you so t-thin?” tommy’s voice trembled and Techno risked a glance at his family. Wilbur’s eyes were blown wide open, his eyes filled with worry and fear as he stared blankly at the area Techno had exposed. Tommy’s eyes were filling to the brim with tears, as he clutched the shirt he had brought for Techno tightly in his grasp. Phil looked distressed, unable to keep still as he hovered near Techno, wanting to check up on his son but respecting Techno’s personal space still.

_ Thin? Don’t listen to that, you’re the definition of fat. _

Techno bit his lip to stop himself from answering.

“Techno, please. Can you remove your shirt? I promise we aren’t angry, we just need to see how your body is doing.” Phil tried, inching closer to his son. Techno shrunk away, fear running through his mind. Now they would know, they’d know how ugly he was, how abnormal and fat and worthless he truly was. And there was nothing to stop them from leaving him.

_ Not if you left first _

Gathering his strength, he waited for the moment when Wilbur turned to look at Phil, when Tommy wasn’t looking directly at him and he shot up from the chair. Despite not having had enough to eat in days, he was able to sprint out of the house, ignoring the calls of his family telling him to come back. He ran and ran, until he was deep in the woods near their house. 

This was it, huh. He mused. He’d never imagined that he’d have such a dramatic exit, merely thought he’d be tossed out of the house like garbage. Well, he had always planned for this. As he made his way to the old treehouse he, Wilbur and Tommy used to play at, he felt tears well up in his eyes. He’d miss them, sure. But their lives would be so much better without him so he knew what he had to do. Pulling himself up into the treehouse, he reminisced the times when Tommy was mad and stormed off into the woods, finding refuge in this very treehouse the brothers had found years ago, a decent distance away from their house. He remembered playing with his brothers here all the time, and remembered when Wilbur used to play his guitar to them as they lay on the floor of the treehouse, listening to Wilbur singing and the sounds of nature. Now, as he opened the clasp of the box he had left there a few weeks prior, all he could think about was how dearly he would miss them. But they wouldn’t be sad for too long, after all he was just a burden, weighing down their shoulders. Soon they would be free. Grasping the fresh razor blade, he left the letter he had written in the box as it had been for weeks and sliced into his arm.

As the blood pooled out from the many cuts he made, he felt his vision go blurry and thought that he could vaguely hear Tommy’s loud sobbing in the background, accompanied with Wilbur’s panicked rambling and Phil’s shaky voice. He gave a weak smile. Even in his final moments, all he could think about was his family. 

“I love you all…”

_ “Techno, big man, please no no, don’t leave us!” _

_ “Call an ambulance! Oh god, all the blood, his wrists…” _

_ “Techno, stay with us, mate. Please, son…” _

And Techno drifted away.


End file.
